Currently I’m in the middle of a very busy work period of endless shifts resulting in less interaction with passengers due to general tiredness. This coupled with moving house and temporarily losing my cable connection means blogging will be sporadic over the next week or so. Otherwise I’ll try to post whenever possible. Stand by, base.

Here's some taxi related, Friday entertainment from Quentin Tarantino. The first from Pulp Fiction is extra footage of Esmeralda's taxi scene which didn't make the final cut. The second is a snippet from the wonderful opening scene in Reservior Dogs when Mr Pink refuses to tip...

Late yesterday afternoon I took a radio booking in the inner city. Upon arrival I parked and waited outside an elegant historic home, tastefully converted into company headquarters.

Shortly an elderly gentleman emerged through the security gate. He was a spitting image of Colonel Saunders in a white casual suit and ornate cane. “You were supposed to drive in,” he grumbled opening the door. I told him the instructions were only to wait with no mention of driving in. It happens with phone bookings.

Next he ordered the air conditioning then became exasperated when it didn’t instantly chill. I was tempted to chide him for being a grumpy old bugger but bit my tongue and turned up the fan. No matter, he was soon comfortable enough to enter into an amicable conversation.

“I’m 83, you know,” he offered, explaining that he only worked three days a week. “It’s good for me, keeps my hand in.” I asked him, “So how’s your health?” “Excellent,” he replied, “touch wood.” Though not quite excellent, as I was soon to find out.

It didn’t take long to learn that he was one of Australia’s eminent publishers and had worked around the world in all positions, right up to Chairman. I inquired about their famous editor, currently the subject of a compelling documentary and he revealed that whilst president of the company in New York it was he who had employed her.

After I suggested his experiences would make an excellent memoir he told how the manuscript was well advanced. “My son is helping me write it, he’s won three Walkleys.” He related this with obvious pride, also mentioning a successful daughter and his grandchildren.

He was gracious enough to inquire about my business whilst reeling off facts and statistics on the current state of publishing. In the next breath he would suggest a cunning shortcut to avoid the banking traffic. No doubt about it, the bloke was sharp as a tack and certainly knew his stuff.

Yet it was only on arrival in his quiet street in an exclusive harbour side suburb that his years really showed. When I stopped at the number he gave he didn’t recognise the house in the dark, so I pulled over whilst he produced a notebook. He studied this intensely and apologised for keeping me waiting. It was clear he was in the early stages of dementia.

Finally he asked for number 15 and we pulled into the driveway of an imposing structure overlooking the harbour. I held the door open whilst he slowly heaved himself out, only to totter off to number 13. So I set him straight and walked him to his door, then waited until someone buzzed him inside.

I thought about the old fella a lot after that and what a pleasant conversationalist he had been, unlike many other businessmen preoccupied with their Blackberrys. And how after reaching the top of his profession, that it really doesn't matter about position and status when one's health goes haywire. Then all that matters is family and love.

The Sunday Telegraph yesterday published follow-up news to it’s story a few weeks ago on cheating cabbies. Over the weekend police and motor transport officers were out in force around the city, especially in Kings Cross after midnight fining touting cabbies.

Undoubtedly this illegal practise has gotten out of hand, leaving late night revellers stranded for hours. Amongst drivers I've spoken with there is universal recognition of the problem and praise from all, including myself, who are sick of the cowboys giving cabbies a bad name.

Out of interest here’s how I managed my exit from the Cross on Sunday morning, as detailed previously. I've edited the raw footage for brevity to show two approaches from would-be passengers seeking a lift...

Still, I have a problem with the newspaper publishing identifying details of the accused, namely plate numbers and clear images of drivers being booked. Mainly because a fine can be challenged and thus is not proven until the appeal is judged, or the fine paid.

A while ago a News Limited photo editor insisted that as a general rule they avoided identifying vehicle number plates in contentious news items. However in this case the Sunday Telegraph decided to publish the number plates which I feel was unnecessary. They have surely done so to shame the accused drivers, without qualification.

If I was presented in a similar light by the media and identified as guilty before the charge could be fairly tested and proven, I would seek advice on the legality of such publication. Maybe SkepticLawyer has an opinion on my chances of redress.

Early this morning a cabbie mate recounted how a few weeks ago when the Sunday Telegraph was reporting on these cheating cabbies, he had a passenger do a runner over twenty bucks. This dope being drunk left his work pass in the cab. Ironically, the bloke works for News Limited, publisher of the Sunday Telegraph.

A quick Google confirms his destination address via Whitepages and his LinkedIn entry details his current employment with News Limited. It reads...

I have excellent interpersonal skills, as well as being a creative individual who is able to work in high pressure environments in a relaxed and articulate manner.

...except, that is, when pissed.

Of course one does not have to publicly name and shame him for the authorities to take action and recover the money. Whilst the cabbie's allegation is yet to be tested, in my view identifying him online would be legally questionable and plain spiteful.

Taxi politics is not normally a Cablog topic as the multi-layered shonkiness overwhelms me. It's a bit like investigating child abuse, akin to putting one's head in a bucket of crap. But feel free to have a go at some of the Herald's half dozen articles and lists of documents for an idea of the complexities involved.

Early this morning I took home an overworked lawyer whom I’ve carried on three or four previous occasions. Though he sits up front he is very restrained so I knew to leave him alone.

This is only fair enough after working a 16 hour day plus he clearly struggles with the small talk, possibly a consequence of working in law.

However this time he made a real effort by commenting on the seagulls swarming around the top of the Harbour Bridge. I explained how they were feeding on migrating bogon moths attracted by the City lights. “Interesting,” he replied dryly and we drove on in silence.

Upon arrival the 1am radio news reported on voting irregularities in the Afghanistan elections. Whilst I gathered the change he again surprised me by remarking on the lamentable choice between 'two crooked candidates’. So I joined him in a cynical chuckle as he took the change and opened the door.

Driving away I was thinking how the bloke is gradually warming to me and that next time we might have a decent conversation. But just then I realised that the parting exchange had distracted both of us from the fact that I’d short-changed him ten bucks.

After nearly two weeks away I headed back to work yesterday all fired up for a big shift. However this eagerness quickly evaporated when greeted by the sight of leaking fluid from the cab, necessitating an hour wait for another car.

Don’t get me wrong, the holiday was a fantastic and relaxing respite from the nightly routine of driving a cab. But to actually look forward to returning to work didn’t seem right at the time - unAustralian, even - and had me wondering if I need therapy.

Early in the shift a passenger requested a hotel on Cleveland Street, Surrey Hills. When we arrived via a natural short-cut to avoid the lights and peak hour on Cleveland, she exclaimed, “I’ve been doing this trip every Monday and that’s the quickest and cheapest I’ve had all year.”

By not adhering to the greedy cabbie stereotype maybe I do need counselling!

I’d like to thank Rainer the Cabbie for producing the timely and well received post, Greedy last week whilst I was off duty. This alternative explanation showed that not all cabs refusing fares after midnight in Kings Cross are motivated by greed but rather are committed to varying obligations, not the least being time constraints.

A follow-up to the newspaper story appeared on Sunday with the authorities’ response...

The NSW Taxi Council said the Ministry of Transport and Infrastructure has written to the drivers who refused the fare after a list of their number plates was published in this newspaper.

"The ministry has written to every driver that offended on that list, and told them they need to come in for an interview to justify why they should keep their licence," Taxi Council spokeswoman Tracey Cain said.

Whilst the essence of The Sunday Telegraph's campaign was, in principle, valid, nevertheless I’m somewhat sceptical as to how the case against the drivers can be proven.

Given the complainant, a journalist, is not a compliance officer it must be very doubtful whether the exchange with said drivers can be fairly tested without supporting electronic evidence.

Additionally, it would be worthwhile to know, and the paper's duty to inform readers, just how many of the 82 refusals the journalist received were actually legitimate refusals, like so....

In regards to the above mentioned article, under the "Fair Dinkum" banner, I would like to question your motives and method of reporting on this particular issue. No doubt the Taxi industry has some rogue elements in it, just like any other profession, including yours.

Your report was filed on Bayswater Rd., Kings Cross, at the worst possible time, [Sunday morning, between midnight and three am] at the worst possible place. Talk about cherry picking a time and a location.

Your one complaint, about drivers negotiating huge fares to take a customer is deserved criticism, that is totally illegal and is frowned upon by professional drivers like myself.

But the refusal of fares by drivers is not something that should be described as a "crime". The time between 1.30am and 3am is known as changeover time for Sydney taxi drivers, and in that time slot drivers need to travel in a certain direction to get back to their depot, for the purpose of a car wash and the commencement of the day drivers shift.

This is the only time that cabbies are asking the general public for some understanding, and by law should display destination signs on the windscreen. I admit that this not common practice as verbal communication seems to be the best practice, which is also handy in accessing the state of your possible fare.

This is what happened in Kings Cross on that particular night, one only needs to read your timescale of refusal of fares to get this information.

What totally amused me was how you named certain taxi numbers, who had the Not for Hire sign displayed and drove off without taking a fare.

Yeah, I have done that in Bayswater Rd. Kings Cross, at certain times. That is called going to a radio booking, or not willing to pick up patrons that are drunk and drug-fucked at the end of a twelve hour shift. If that is a crime, go ahead and charge me as guilty.